10 things I dislike about hotels

I spend many nights in beds that aren’t mine. Many, many nights! Maybe too many nights. From 10-bed dorms to light houses, shipping containers, and the like. From boring chain operations, via eclectic boutique hotels, to the superbest of the superb. So I know what I like (open to being delightfully surprised, though). And I definitely know what I dislike.

Let me preface this little rant by specifying that this doesn’t apply to the cheap places. If all I require is a few hours sleep – or somewhere to leave my bags while I’m out and about, then no frills = no frills. If we’re talking 4 and 5 stars and above, however, I have expectations. And they had better be met. Here’s 10 pet peeves:

Non-working lavs. I know, right! Should be a given that loos work! Yet it’s amazing how frequently they don’t. Even in high level establishments.

Showers that require a freakin’ PhD to operate. Doesn’t even have to be rain showers, or hip spa showers. Even fairly regular showers are sometimes impossible to figure out. I hate having to get dressed, and call housekeeping to come show me how to work the bloody things.

While we’re on the subject: TV remote controls that are too complicated. A channel changer and volume control – that’s all I require. Forget about the other 50 buttons.

Hotel TVs, part II: TV alarm clocks. I never know whether I’ve managed to activate the alarm, so I end up asking for a wake-up call anyway. Or use my mobile.

Beds that are too soft. Hate that, too.

Minibar refrigerators that have no room for anything else than their own overpriced junk, not even my water bottle. That’s just stingy.

Minibars, part II: Minibars that charge for simply picking up an item, even if you put it back. So if you’re curious about an interesting-looking tin of whatchamacallit and it turns out to be just peanuts you don’t want – watch out.

Telephones that look like your grandmother’s – as plain as can be and don’t even list the number for reception. And there’s no folder or even a sticker on the desk listing the number for reception. And no, it isn’t always 9 or 0.

Walls so thin, when the neighbour has the wall-mounted TV on, it’s loud enough to feel as if the broadcaster is inside your head.

Rooms that don’t have tea- and coffee making facilities. A few tea bags and packets of instant coffee – is that too much to ask?

Anti-theft clothes hangers; those with the hook fixed onto the metal bar and with the rest damned near impossible to wriggle back in. Are you really afraid people will pinch them? Use cheap plastic ones instead then, that nobody in their right mind would steal. Or calculate a couple of missing hangers into the price of the room. We won’t notice.

Clothes hangers, part II: Just one or two when you know I’ll be staying for 3 nights? What’s that about?

Open wardrobes. It looks messy. Give me doors.

Black minimalist rooms with weak lighting; just a couple of cold, blue light bulbs. Like we’re on the set of some sci-fi nightmare.

Not enough plug points. Or plug points in awkward places.

Wifi with passwords consisting of 5000 random numbers and letters. And you have to punch in a new set every hour!

Simply rotten wifi.

That’s 10. Plus 7. How’s that for over-delivering.

Snaps from Pixabay so as not to out any in particular. Cause, you know, I’m a nice person.